


A Moment on Her Lips, Forever on His Mind

by Dresupi



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Banter, Co-workers, F/M, Ice Skating, Modern Era, POV Tormund Giantsbane, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:15:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23149885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dresupi/pseuds/Dresupi
Summary: This would be the one where the Starks run a Winter Retreat in the North. Sansa's the ice skating instructor and Tormund does snow-shoe-hikes.AKAFive times Tormund made Sansa smile and the one time she got him to.
Relationships: Tormund Giantsbane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 12
Kudos: 82
Collections: Dresupi's Sweetheart Prompts





	A Moment on Her Lips, Forever on His Mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meilan_Firaga](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meilan_Firaga/gifts).



> For Meilan_Firaga, who prompted "That Smile"
> 
> Special thank you to treaddelicately, who not only beta'd this for me, but also listened to me wail about not being able to write anything for over a month. Tread is the real hero here. <3

A snow-shoeing instructor with no one attending his classes looked rather silly decked out in all his gear only to snow-shoe with himself. Tormund wasn’t above tricking people into joining his activities. He didn’t have to worry that he was in danger of being fired, it was mostly because he was in danger of being bored. And also, Sansa’s ice skating classes were always booked to the gills with men who’d honestly have more fun snow-shoeing once they realized that they weren’t going to get anywhere with Sansa Stark.

No one ever got anywhere with her since she broke things off with that Ramsay fella. Not that Tormund knew much about that. All he knew was what he heard, and what he heard had all happened before he’d joined the staff at Winterfell.

But he knew enough to know that none of these touristy-blokes were going to get anywhere with Sansa.

She rarely spoke to anyone outside of her immediate family. But when she did, the conversation always held his attention.

It was no secret that the oldest Stark girl was a beauty. Anyone with eyes could see that. Even Tormund found himself smiling when he thought about her miles of long red hair, but never for longer than it took to remember that everyone called her the ice queen for a reason.

Well, they actually _used_ to call her the ice princess, but after her mother and father were lost in that mountaineering expedition, she’d graduated to the queen. Not that it was a happy graduation to be sure, but everyone had sort of shifted into it after a while.

It wasn’t that Catelyn hadn’t been liked around here, it was just that she was cold. And firm. Which was a nice way of saying she made your balls crawl back up into your body whenever you were unfortunate enough to warrant an audience with her apart from Ned. Now, Ned had been a warm presence in the frozen North. He and Cat had evened each other out. It was a damn shame what had happened to them. But avalanches happened. The mountains answered to no one, after all.

Now, Sansa and Robb ran things around here. Robb, he liked. He was just and fair, but he could also keep up with Tormund at the pub and that was saying something. He wasn’t as much of a doormat as Ned had been, but he was still kind-hearted.

Sansa wasn’t nearly as unpleasant as her mother had been. And there wasn’t any need for her to be since Robb had a good head on his shoulders. Lots of both his parents’ influence floating around in there. Sansa was just quiet. Stoic. Didn’t smile.

But she did teach the people from the south with their two-left-feet to skate on the ice, and she did so with gusto. So much gusto that she was often asked for by name. And as he’d mentioned before, her classes were always full.

Such was the case when Tormund showed up to her three-o’clock class about five minutes into her introduction. She narrowed her eyes briefly, well onto him and his plan, but didn’t shoo him away.

He sat with all the newbies, pretending not to know how to lace up his skates while Sansa helped everyone down the line. When she got to him, she didn’t smile, but her eyes belied no hostility. “Shall I show you how to lace them?” she asked, an eyebrow quirking as he nodded. She knelt in front of him and instructed on how to properly lace his skates. He already knew, of course. And she _knew_ he already knew. But she was being such a good sport about it, so it was the least he could do to return the favor

Once out on the ice, ninety-five percent of the gentlemen were falling on their arses, while he was falling down for the sake of faux-comradery.

“You know,” he said upon sliding to his rear beside a rather tanned, southern-looking fellow. “I have a snow-shoeing hike that begins at this same exact time, but tomorrow by the north cabins. There’s significantly less falling down.”

“Do you have _her_?” the man asked. Tormund recognized his accent as Dornish.

“Ah, no. Alas, we don’t have Sansa. But no one else has Sansa either,” he added at the end with a bit of a smirk. “Or should I say, _she_ won’t have anyone.”

“That’s a damn shame,” the other man said, sucking his teeth. “But I’ll be there. My ass has met more ice than it ever cares to again.” He stuck out his hand. “Oberyn Martell.”

“Aye, I’m Tormund Giantsbane,” Tormund replied, taking his gloved hand and shaking it. “I’ll see you tomorrow, mate. Tell your friends.”

He pushed up with ease and glided over to another group that looked a little put off. Of course, before he could get there, Sansa slid in beside him, hooking her arm through his. “You seem to have made a rather stunning improvement, ser.”

Tormund snorted. “It’s only because of your wonderful tutelage.”

Whether or not she believed a word of what he said, Tormand wasn’t sure, but she changed the subject rather quickly. “You can always leave flyers here about your hikes, you know. You don’t have to crash my classes and poach my students.”

“Most of them are only here because they think they’re getting in your legwarmers…” he countered. “I’m simply poaching the pigs. Doing you a favor, actually.”

“A favor, huh? I must say, watching you fake-fall on your arse all afternoon has been a joy.”

Tormund glanced down at that exact moment to see a fleeting smile cross her face. And something happened to him. Something deep around his heart. It wasn’t that he never got the fuss before. Sansa was a beautiful woman. But when she smiled, he could see happiness dancing across her skin. But she barely smiled. Ever.

He wondered if he could change that.

He wondered if anyone had tried beyond telling her to smile, which only caused her to glare in a way that was a stunning recreation of Cat’s old ball-shriveling look

He doubted anyone had ever tried something like this.

“Say, what are you doing later?” he asked.

She huffed out a sound that would have been a laugh if she’d been still smiling. As it was, it sounded more like an annoyance than anything else.

“I never do anything.”

“Come have a coffee with me.” Even as he spoke the words, they felt strange. He didn’t ask women out for coffees. He asked them out for drinks and then back to his cabin. Coffee felt like something foreign. Especially in an artisan form. And at night.

“You have coffees? With people?” she asked incredulously.

“No. But I figured I might as well try it. Wanna come with me?”

“To the shop in Winter Town?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” She nodded and Tormund was surprised she said yes the first time.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t usually go places with people. With men. With men-people. But I figured I might as well.” She smirked. Which wasn’t a smile, but it was something.

Tormund beamed. “Well then. First time for both of us.. When’s your last class over?”

“Seven.”

“Should we say seven-thirty?”

“I suppose we should,” she replied. “I’ll meet you there.”

* * *

Seven-thirty rolled around and Tormund was almost convinced she wouldn’t meet him. He stood outside the tiny coffee shop, glancing at the time on his phone more often than he wasn’t.

She showed up at seven thirty-four, with an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, I was running a little late.”

“S’alright,” he lied. “Didn’t even notice.”

He opened the door for her and waited as she entered the shop in front of him. She smelled like firewood and frost. Like the interior of the cabins where all the employees lived at Winterfell. He’d sort of expected her to live in the main mansion with Robb and the rest of them.

And she still might. He had no idea, perhaps there was a fireplace in her suite.

“Two of the members of my class remained behind to…” she sighed. “ _Waste_ my time for a good seven minutes after class ended. Then, I had to practically run back to my place to change and then catch the shuttle here, so I ended up being later than we agreed upon…”

The coffee house was in an older building, and the floors creaked when she took a step inside. They damn near groaned when he did, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Yeah, well, like I said. It’s alright.”

She pressed her lips together and they sort of quirked upwards, but it wasn’t enough of a smile for it to count.

She ordered a hot drink. Cider with a cinnamon stick. No caffeine, he noticed. He wondered if that was a personal choice or simply because it was nighttime and she’d have a hard time going to sleep.

He ordered just a regular cappuccino and they both stood to the side while they waited for their drinks.

She swayed slightly to the song on the speakers, her sleeve brushing against his every so often. She hummed along, and he wondered if she realized she was doing it or not. She didn’t seem the type to just hum while people were listening, so he guessed probably not.

Their drinks were pretty quick, the shop was basically empty. The late dinner service was still going on at Winterfell, so most of the tourists were there.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, gesturing to the menu again. “I could grab something as well if you are…”

She shrugged, “Only if it’s no trouble.”

He chuckled. This whole thing was so far out of his comfort zone, it _was_ trouble, but he had enough sense not to tell her that. When the barista brought their drinks, he ordered one each of the two club sandwiches. One came with turkey, the other with chicken. He wasn’t sure what the other differences were, but the barista actually looked happy to make something that wasn’t coffee.

“I’ll bring those out when they’re ready,” he told them, and they turned to go sit down.

They had their pick of places to sit and Sansa chose a seat close to the fire and set her cider down on the table beside her chair. She slipped off her coat and Tormund belatedly reached for it, but she’d already laid it over her chair back, so it just looked like he was trying to pat her shoulder.

“Sorry, I was gonna... “ He cleared his throat. “Gonna take your coat.”

“What for?” she deadpanned. “Don’t think it’ll fit you.”

He laughed out loud, and she did that thing where she pressed her lips together and it would have been a smile if she’d put any more work into at all.

It definitely broke the ice, because when he sat down, he took a long sip of his cappuccino and burnt his tongue, but played it off pretty well. He set the mug back down and Sansa brought her hand up to cover her mouth. “You um… you’ve got a mustache.”

“Indeed I do,” he preened, beaming over at her. “Grew it at the same time as my beard, believe it or not.”

“No,” she laughed, her face cracking into another wide smile as her hand fell away from her mouth. “It’s the foam.”

He winked and reached for a napkin. “I knew that.”

He hadn’t, but hopefully, he could play it off like he had. She laughed more freely around him after that.

* * *

It was a few nights later when they finally got together again. It was Sansa who sought him out. Not that it was particularly difficult to find him, he usually only went one of three places. But seeing her grey fur parka and splash of red hair waiting there after he brought his group back from an exciting afternoon of snow-shoeing was almost too good to be true.

“Fancy going skating with me?” she asked. “If you don’t have other plans, that is.”

She’d been fully confident when she started, but it slid off a bit at the end. No matter, Tormund wasn’t the kind of guy who jumped on insecurities. He’d rather bolster the strengths.

“I’d fancy going anywhere with you,” he replied. “I just gotta end this and I’ll be right with you.”

“Brilliant,” was her terse reply. Another one of those close-lipped expressions followed.

The rink was deserted at this time of night, but Sansa had a spare set of keys, being the skating instructor and all.

“You sure I’m not going to get my arse reamed by your brother for this?” Tormund asked as she let them into the facility.

“Robb is scared of you, are you kidding?” she asked, snorting a little as she moved over to a bench to slip off her shoes and lace up her skates. Tormund followed suit.

“You know, you really have to show off this time. I’m no slouch like most of your students,” he reminded her.

She arched an eyebrow and pushed to her feet, only to glide effortlessly onto the ice. She skated around a few times before turning around and moving into a small jump. Nothing Olympic caliber or anything, but it was impressive nonetheless.

Tormund whistled loudly. “Eight point two.”

She skidded to a halt. “Eight?” she repeated, obviously displeased with his scoring.

“Yeah, you’re capable of much more, you’re holding back,” he countered, smirking as he skated out onto the ice. He’d never been uncoordinated on skates, but this wasn’t his favorite pastime. More of a way to get around in the frozen North when the sidewalks were frozen solid. But then again, he hadn’t had a trainer like Sansa had likely had in her youth to make it fun either.

She took off toward him with surprising speed and he had to hop a little to take off and try to keep away from her. And then he kind of laughed because the last thing he wanted was to keep away from Sansa Stark.

He stopped, reaching out and grabbing her arm and pulling her into a spin with him, his arms around her as he leaned down and stole a kiss.

“Now that, I give a solid nine,” he said, booping her nose and taking off in the opposite direction.

And that’s when he heard it. Like the tinkling of tiny bells in the silence. He stopped and spun around to catch her laughing. A big smile splitting her face as she doubled over to wrap both arms around her belly.

“That was a stolen kiss, Tormund. If I’d known it was coming it would have been a ten.”

He pushed off and slowly began to glide backward. “C’mere and show me then.”

His voice took on a gravelly quality when he spoke this time, but she seemed either to not notice or to like the way it sounded because she skated back into his arms and wrapped both of hers around him, her momentum pushing them back a bit as her lips met his. Slowly. With purpose.

Her lips were cold, but her breath was warm. And the whole experience left him with a much higher temperature than he’d started.

When she broke off the kiss, she glanced up at him expectantly, and he had to remember how to talk.

“Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, kiss me again, Sansa…”

She giggled and obliged him.

* * *

The third time they met up was his idea. And he invited her to his home.

Well, to the little cabin on site that he called home, anyway.

The whole thing was a little spur of the moment. He hadn’t left his cabin planning to ask Sansa back to it with him, so there was a bit of tidying to do as he came in the door. It was funny how none of this bothered him until Sansa was standing there with him. And then suddenly, last night’s jumper was absolutely a horrendous sight and he couldn’t get rid of it fast enough.

If she noticed his last-minute cleaning binge, she didn’t let him know it, she simply averted her eyes while he scrambled to get things respectable and pretended to be very interested in his mum’s spoon collection, AKA the only thing tacked up on his wall that didn’t look like it belonged there.

“Your mother’s?” Sansa asked simply, as he swept his hand across the countertop in the kitchenette and cleared the toast crumbs from the surface.

“Yeah, how ever did you guess?” he joked as he did a quick once-over. Still very untidy, it was very clear that a messy person lived there, but presentable and none of his pants were lying about for her to see.

“I dunno, just looked like something a mum would do…”

“Did yours--” He stopped himself short. Bringing up her dead mother wasn’t exactly the tone he wanted to set for the evening, but the cat was already out of the bag and ripping it to shreds, so here he was.

“Mine didn’t have spoons, she did magnets on the fridge door, though. Robb has them now, I think. They came with the lodge,” she chuckled dryly.

“You don’t live in the lodge?” he asked. Something about the way she’d said it made him think she was a visitor whenever she went there.

“Nah. I didn’t live there while they were alive, why should I live there now? It’s enormous and drafty and would need so much work to look anything but very dated,” she gave him a smirk. “It’s been a few years now, Tormund. You needn’t worry about setting me off.”

“I just… thought it wasn’t the kind of mood I’d like to set.”

She smiled then. A full-fledged grin that stretched from ear to ear. Her eyes, however, were eating him alive when she turned to face him. “And what mood, pray-tell, _were_ you trying to set?” Sansa took a step towards him, away from his mother’s spoon collection and towards the kitchen where he was.

“I dunno, something a little lighter?”

“How light?” she asked. “Because I need to know where to go sit down…”

“Sofa,” he whispered, watching as she turned on her heel and tossed that red hair over her shoulder and made her way where he’d directed. She sat down on one end and he sat down beside her.

In an instant, his head hit the back of the sofa and his arms were full of Sansa as she straddled his lap and sank down. “Not too heavy, I hope,” she breathed against his lips.

He shook his head. “No. No, not at all… perfectly light…”

She _was_ light. Despite the way her thighs felt as he ran his hands over them in the dim light. Tightly wound muscles from all that skating, no doubt. She could probably wrap them around his waist and hold him up if he asked her to.

For some reason, that thought was what got to him. What turned the switch in his brain from passive to decidedly not.

Not too aggressive, but Tormund was no slouch. As fun as it was to sit there while Sansa ground herself in his lap and pulled gently at his lips, he had something else in mind.

He placed both hands on her hips, squeezing a bit and marveling at how small she felt in his hands like this. He took her bottom lip between his teeth and she purred into his mouth.

Fuck.

All other thoughts went out the window as he tried to concentrate on making her make that sound again.

He was so very set on his endeavor that he almost didn’t hear the doorbell.

Tormund groaned and glanced over at the door, wondering how easily he could just ignore whoever it was. No one ever came by except Jon.

“That’s probably your cousin,” he muttered under his breath.

“I’ll get it then,” Sansa rose off him and pushed off the couch. He wanted to pull her back down, but he let her go, craning his neck to see as she answered his door.

Jon’s face went through a journey of surprise, confusion, embarrassment and then he simply grinned at Sansa and peered behind her to where Tormund was sitting. “I was gonna come by and see if you wanted to go get a drink, but I can see you’re… busy?”

Tormund couldn’t see Sansa’s face, but he’d wager it was one of those patented Stark smirks, paired with her icy gaze. Tormund still wasn’t immune, but Jon apparently was, meeting her deftly in the middle. She let out a laugh and stood aside. “I don’t know, are you busy, Tormund?”

“Depends on you,” he said, hoping like hell she’d just send Jon away.

“I could use a drink. I need to cool off,” she shot him a wink.

“You’re coming too?” Jon asked.

“If I’m invited,” her bravado was starting to falter, but Jon filled in the silence perfectly. “Just didn’t know if the likes of you wanted to come out for drinks with the likes of us. But seeing as how you’re… fraternizing on-site, _maybe_ you’re cool.”

She reached for her coat where she’d flung it when she came in and started shrugging it on.

Tormund let out a breath and turned to stare up to the ceiling.

“Coming, Tormund?” Sansa asked.

“Just give me a tick. Need a second…”

More than a second, actually.

* * *

He was dead set on not letting anything interrupt them this time. He’d succeeded in getting them both out of their clothing. Mostly. He was still fumbling with her bra. Never had mastered these things over the years.

Not that it mattered, most women didn’t notice him yanking at it if his tongue was in their mouth.

Sansa, though. She liked to talk.

“I envy you,” she murmured, wrapping both arms around his bare shoulders as he hooked his chin over her shoulder to get a look at what he was working with.

“Why? Because I can’t get this damn thing off?”

She chuckled. “No. Because you’re so carefree and free-wheeling. It must be nice not to worry about every blasted thing that comes your way.” The clasp came loose in his hands and he dropped the garment, leaning back and cupping her chin.

He kissed her chastely on the mouth. “Life’s a funny thing, and the sooner you accept it, the looser you’ll become.”

“Life’s not funny,” she countered.

“Sure it is. Take this for instance.”

“This is funny?” she asked, the corner of her mouth quirking slightly when he tugged her bra down over her arms and tossed it aside. He hefted both her breasts in his hands and glanced up at her.

“Yes. We’re going to take our clothes off and rub our naked bodies together until we are shouting out in ecstasy. That makes a funny mental image when you break it down to the barest threads.”

Her smile this time was soft, but her words were sharp. “You seem pretty sure of yourself on that ecstasy bit.”

He waggled his eyebrows. “Just wait. I’ll have you giggling, thanking the old gods, _and_ my parents for birthing me in a few minutes.”

He sucked one of her nipples into his mouth and let his tongue dance over the tip until her breathing changed, catching in her throat as she wound her fingers tighter and tighter into his hair.

Coaxing her to rock over him, her silky knickers catching just so when she rocked her hips against him. She swore under her breath and readjusted herself so she could get his stiff member to press in just the right spot.

He pinched her other nipple as he laved his tongue over the one in his mouth. Her head fell back, and he couldn’t help but watch her as she moved. His hands dropped to her narrow waist and she pushed her hair from her face and straightened up to lock eyes with him. “You think this is funny?” she teased, moving over him and pressing his cock against his lower belly in the process.

“Hilarious,” he murmured, watching her hands as they moved to her hips, pushing her knickers down as she rose and shifted to get them off.

He took that as a cue to do the same, but his movements were much more frantic than hers, which caused her to grin and push him back down to the bed. Her hand moved between them, wrapping around him and holding him upright so she could rub herself against the shaft. “Condom?” she asked.

“Top drawer,” he replied, making to reach for his bedside table, but she beat him to it, pulling out the foil square and tearing it open. She deftly rolled the latex over his cock and rose up to center herself over him, lining up the tip with her opening. She rolled her hips, his cock still tightly in her hand as she rubbed him through her slick.

He was entranced by the steady rhythm of her movements and the fact that she was so hot he could barely stand it.

Oh, and the ache in his cock that desperately needed to be sated. That was pretty distracting. Although, the sight of the Ginger goddess astride him gave it a run for its money.

He ran his hands up her bare thighs, squeezing her encouragingly as she got herself ready.

“That’s it… just like that…” he murmured.

“Gods, you feel so good,” she whispered, shuddering as she pressed the tip of him into her body, pressing herself down and back up again.

“There’s… fuck…” Tormund’s eyes closed when she repeated the action.

“There’s what?” she asked.

“Lube. In that drawer. If you--”

She leaned over and produced the tube in her hand, dropping his dick for the moment as she popped the cap and squirted some into her palm.

She slicked up his cock, causing him to whimper before she tossed the tube to the side and settled herself back over him. It went much smoother this time.

“Fuck… fuck…” she swore as he slowly stretched her. “Fuck, I promise it feels good, it’s just been such a long time…”

“Take… take your time,” he rasped, his eyes damn near rolling back in his head as she took him inside.

She wasn’t so tight, so that was good for them both. She was ready for him, sufficiently warmed up. She felt slick and when she squeezed him, he couldn’t help but moan aloud.

He tried to concentrate on her navel when she started to move. To _really_ move. Because if he looked at all of her, this would be over far too soon.

She kept her hands on his shoulders and rose up and down atop him, jarring his body when she sank down hard.

If he’d had a headboard, it’d be banging against the wall, but as it was, there was just a very squeaky mattress and the breathy sounds they were both making.

She whimpered when she came, biting down on her lip and squeezing him so tightly, he could think past how she felt wrapped around him.

He didn’t last much longer after that, not after her body convulsed around him.

She collapsed, panting slightly before she rolled off him to catch her breath.

His legs felt like jelly when he went to peel off the condom and go wash up. He could hear her voice over the water in the sink, but not what she was saying, so he shut it off and poked his head out the door. “What was that?”

“I said, ‘thank you to the old gods and your parents for birthing you,” she called, a smile very apparent in her tone.

“As far as I can tell, I still haven’t done anything,” he retorted, sauntering back into the bedroom and leaning against the doorframe. “If you’re not tired, maybe let me show you what you’re thanking the old gods for?”

“Thought sure I was thanking them for your beautiful cock,” she replied with a smirk.

“Nah, you’ll be thanking them for my mouth too by the time I’m done with you.”

She giggled and he ran for the bed, leaping into it and pulling her legs up over his shoulders while her giggles turned to moans.

* * *

“Right so, first things first, I’m going to instruct all of you on how to properly strap on your snowshoes,” Tormund said, glancing down the line of his pupils. “You don’t want to lose a shoe out there, it’s hard to hop back to the waypoint.”

There was loud crunching from snow as someone arrived late. It was no matter, really. He hadn’t started the lesson, but he liked to give them a hard time. A good-natured hard time, of course.

He turned and looked into the bright blue eyes of Sansa Stark, dressed in her warmest gear and practically beaming over at him.

She had that look on her face a lot lately, and he wasn’t one to pat himself on the back, but Tormund had to think he had something to do with it.

He matched her smile. “Running late, I see.” It was tamer than what he usually said, but he couldn’t help it. She tamed him. More than a little.

Giggling, she nodded, and Tormund felt his cheeks start to ache from grinning so much. He had to admit, she made him smile just as much. They were good for each other.

Even if she was going to fall on her arse more this afternoon than she likely ever had.

Tormund didn’t care, and neither would she after he got his hands on her that night.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be ready for Valentine's Day, but I started on a new med and it completely drained my ability to write/do anything other than play Stardew Valley and take pictures of my houseplants. :/ It was frustrating. So I hope y'all don't mind the wait for this one. Or the rest of them. I'll finish them all eventually.


End file.
